When rubbish flowers in a cemetery

March 3, 2011

Silent witness

The hand that moves ceaselessly,
It is a moment or eternity.
Ageless, nameless, faceless.

A moment of brightness at the birth of a child;
An eternity in waiting when love is blind.

Speeding through childhood, mindless in the teens;
testing in mid-life, endless for the 'have-beens'.

Motion that can't be stopped;
Just reminiscent or forgotten.
O silent witness, will you ever speak?
Of all you have seen, of all we seek.

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